


Te Amo

by greyvvardenfell



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Hand & Finger Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26517025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyvvardenfell/pseuds/greyvvardenfell
Summary: Reydis reflects on her relationship with Zev while cuddling.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Brosca, Zevran Arainai/Warden
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	Te Amo

No one has ever touched her like this. Sweetly, gently, like she is a sacred thing. Fingers skate across her skin leaving fire in their wake, but it warms before it consumes. Calloused from years of fighting, from clawing his way up hand over hand until, at last, he could rest.

And he chose to rest with her, in the cocoon they built to shield them from the world.

Zevran’s hands are neither dainty nor delicate, but large, strong. A worker’s hands, though he would beg to differ. Corded tendons guide each finger, crossed by thick veins beneath his smooth brown skin. Tattoos lick down from his wrists to curl around each thumb. His fingertips are blunt, nails trimmed short, palms worn rough from the pommels of countless daggers. And yet he wields magic just as easily – banishing tiredness from her neck and stiffness from her ankles and tension from her shoulders. His touch is an anchor in an endless sea, tethering her to the here and the now despite the waves of despair that threaten to pull her under.

Reydis wonders, briefly, in a scrap of a moment she can salvage from the floating bliss his hands provide, how he learned to undo her so completely. Down how many backs had his fingers drifted before they fell prey to his own blade? Along how many throats had he kissed before leaving them slit open and bleeding?

It doesn’t matter.

She realizes this on the crest of a surge of jealousy. These hands were hers, now, as much as they could be. He had offered them willingly, gratefully. Quietly, with a solemnity she had never seen from him before, he had meshed his fingers with hers and spilled his soul. And she had picked it up, kissed its wounds, and given it back.

His hands were the least he could share in return.

The chill of the Ferelden winter just outside the inn’s walls teases and taunts at the window, blowing sprays of snow against the glass. But it is no match for Zevran’s warm body, curved around her back as he cradles her close. She pulls his hand away from its rest on her belly and presses a kiss to his palm. He can carry her love like a talisman, and it will be enough.

Reydis sighs happily. Contentment blossoms at the base of her skull and flows down her spine. He is whispering something, barely voicing the sounds, into the nape of her neck, his lips brushing her skin with every word. Through her haze, she tries to focus.

 _Te amo, mi amora_ , she hears.

He does not need to tell her what it means.


End file.
